


A Hero's Journey

by bluesky_daydreaming



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, So much angst, The Shiro fic I wanted, a brief description of blood, just in case that bothers you, the adashi fix it we needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 21:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesky_daydreaming/pseuds/bluesky_daydreaming
Summary: Takashi Shirogane began his journey sitting on his father’s shoulders, grinning up at a sky full of stars.----Blood dripped from Keith’s knuckles, and tears rolled unceasingly down Adam’s face as they both mourned a man who had changed their lives for the better.(Or, Shiro's journey, beginning to end.)





	A Hero's Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, look. I love Shiro. His character was so freaking good and Voltron did him dirty. This fic is shameless introspection on his character. It's literally 6k words of angst and projection and some weird poetic phrases that I pulled from the depths of my brain because I really love Takashi Shirogane and he deserved better than to have his fiance killed and be written off as a side character and never have any of his issues addressed.

Takashi Shirogane began his journey sitting on his father’s shoulders, grinning up at a sky full of stars. His heart reached out to them, and his eyes tried desperately to take in every piece of the sky they could comprehend. He was elated, and he yearned for an adventure that only space could provide.

Shiro learned things exceptionally fast for a boy so young, and in a matter of weeks he was proudly proclaiming that he would one day fly alongside the stars. “I’ll be  a pilot! A space pilot!” (barely five years old was not old enough to comprehend the word _astronaut)._ He decided he would reach out his hands and find the stars within his grasp instead of so painfully far away.

“I’ll make it, mama, I will.” He declared, eyes misted over with joy and wonder. His mother had ruffled his hair.

“Of course you will, but even when you do, you will shine brighter than any star could hope to.” She kissed his forehead, proud already of the accomplishments her son had not quite achieved.  

 

As he grew older, Shiro solved every problem that jumped into his path. Hard class? Study twice as much. Three recommendation letters for admittance to the Galaxy Garrison _(a high school)_? He could be a suck up, smile at his teachers and push his A’s even higher. Rude commander set on making his life a living hell? He’d be the bigger person. Nothing stood in the way of Takashi Shirogane.

But no hero’s journey is complete without a setback.

One morning in his second year at the Garrison, Shiro felt weak. His shoulders shook and his legs ached with exertion, but there was no cause for it. It was as though he woke up one morning and his muscles had decided that they were not going to cooperate with anything he wanted to do.

Although, maybe that wasn’t totally true. He shook his head, trying to think of any other times in his life when he had felt this way.

There had been a few - but those episodes had been much less severe. They had barely been enough to bother him, much less be a cause for true concern.

His legs shook when he made to leave his dorm, and a cold spike of fear ripped through him.

Shiro was in shape. His job would demand it, and the rigorous training at the Garrison didn’t leave room for much else, not to mention he did extra work outs wherever he could squeeze them in, just to have something to do.

His roommate lifted an eyebrow, “You okay?”

Shiro waved him off, “Yeah, Adam, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Adam didn’t look convinced, but Shiro didn’t stick around to hear anymore. Worrying over the issue, making Adam worry over it, would do very little to solve the it.

So, he ignored it. His classes in the beginning of the day were normal high school classes. No muscle required for physics and language.

But, at the end of the day, the ache could no longer be ignored. It wasn’t so much a hurt as a feeling of weakness, exhaustion. Shiro was determined to push passed it. It was just a thing. He’d be better in the morning.

But, on only his second lap around the track, Shiro felt his legs fall out from under him, shaking with exhaustion that should not have been there.

“Takashi!” He heard Adam exclaim, and then his running footsteps across the gym floor.

Shiro tried to stand, tried to play it off, but his thighs shook and the muscle refused to move. He bit back his panic, but the more he tried to move the more his muscles seemed to stick in place.

Adam’s worried face appeared in front of him, and Shiro shook his head, wordlessly communicating that he wasn’t alright.

The next few minutes were a blur. Shiro registered Adam trying to lift him to his feet and the muscles in his legs _finally_ functioning. He heard Iverson shout something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He leaned heavily on Adam, and somewhere in his mind he was embarrassed, but his legs still weren’t quite underneath him, so allowed himself to be half-carried to the medical wing.

The panic waned the closer they got, as his legs became more and more controllable, and Shiro was able to ease some of his weight off of Adam, but the other boy was having none of it. He kept an arm tight around Shio’s waist until they were in the door, and then he was shouting for a nurse.

Adam’s urgency registered something in the brains of the nurses on duty, and soon at least four of the on duty nurses were crowded around him, spitting questions at him and Adam both, and Shiro tried to listen to each one of them, but his mind was still reeling from the fall, and his heart was beginning to beat erratically.

“Give him space, shoo!” Shouted a new voice, and Shiro looked up to find an older nurse waving away the gaggle that had surrounded him. She bent down to his eye level (Adam had forced him to sit on the first bed in the medical wing), “Think you can tell me what’s going on, hon? You look pale.”

“I- I fell.” Shiro said slowly. “I was training - nothing different from usual, either. My legs just… stopped working for a minute.” Shiro could see Adam worrying at his lip in his peripheral, but he tried to focus on the nurse frowning in front of him.

“Anything else happen today? Do your legs hurt?”

“Uh, they sort of, feel weak? I guess. My shoulders too. Started this morning.”

The nurse was frowning even more now, making Shiro a bit uncomfortable. Glancing at Adam didn’t help either - he was frowning, too.

“Does this happen a lot? Muscle weakness or spasms?”

“Uh, no. Well, never this bad. My legs have felt weak before, but never this bad.” Shiro admitted.

“We’ll need to run some tests. Take some blood and do a few x-rays. It could be nothing, but it could also be something.” The nurse smiled kindly at him, and Shiro bit back a wince at the pity in her eyes. “Don’t worry too much, sweetheart.” And then she was gone, closing the curtain in Shiro’s corner of the medical wing.

Adam moved over to the bed, flopping in the chair on Shiro’s left. “In our two years as roomies - as friends - you never mentioned this. It could be a serious problem, Takashi!”

Adam was the only friend of Shiro’s, the only person he knew, really, that called him by his first name. Privately, Shiro thought it was endearing, but the glare Adam was sending him made Shiro want to hide.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal - there was never anything to really worry about and I didn’t want to make a fuss over nothing.”

“It’s never nothing when something bothers you.”

Shiro felt his cheeks heat up, and smiled over at his friend, affection blooming in his chest, but didn’t say anything else.

The nurse returned a few minutes later, a doctor in tow.

“This is Dr. Johnson, he’ll be the one looking over your tests, just to see what all is going on, and I believe he has a few questions for you.” She said.

“Hello, Shiro. We met your first year here, if you recall.” Johnson smiled, and Shiro did recall. He had come down with the flu, barely able to move. It had been the first time Adam dragged him to the medical wing, fussing over him like a mother would a small child.

Shiro had maybe fallen a bit in love with him, that day, but he was also very sick and in no place to think about anything other than the pounding in his head and his stuffy nose.

The doctor continued despite Shiro’s lack of a reply, “The symptoms you reported are unsettling, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. We’ll start with some blood tests, get a good look at some enzyme levels. If those come back clear, I’d like to do a muscle biopsy, just to make sure everything is really okay.”

Shiro gaped, “A biopsy? Why?”

“It sounds to me, and this is a worst case scenario, that you may have Becker’s Muscular Dystrophy.” Shiro must have looked horrified, because Johnson continued quickly. “It usually displays itself between 10 and 20 years old, and, considering that you are 17, that makes it a prime suspect. It starts in the arms and legs.”

“But- I mean, we don’t have any family history of that?” Shiro wracked his brain for any mention of muscular dystrophy of any kind in his family, and came up blank.

“It is X-linked, so would skip most females and even males if they are lucky.” Johnson patted Shiro’s shoulder, “But even if it is Becker’s, there’s really no need to panic. There are a lot more treatment options for it now than there were 20 years ago. You won’t be losing mobility any time soon.”

Shiro nodded, and Johnson left the room. He stared numbly at the wall, not even registering when the nurse took several blood samples from his arm.

Adam grabbed his hand when the nurse left the room, giving him a weak smile. Shiro shook his head, and squeezed Adam’s hand, his mind too full of _worst case scenarios_ to form any kind of intelligent thought.

 

When he was called down to the medical wing three days later and officially diagnosed, it felt like his world was crashing down on him. No one would want a pilot without any kind of motor control issues.

Adam let Shiro cry on his shoulder when he got back to their room, no pity of judgement anywhere in site.

 

Shiro proposed on a Monday.

There was nothing special about the day, he hadn’t even planned to propose. He had just woken up after Adam, and was watching him get ready for work. (He helped teach classes earlier in the day than Shiro did, and living at the Garrison meant that Shiro could get up whenever he wanted.)

Adam had turned around after slipping his uniform shirt on, grinning at Shiro from his spot in front of their dresser. He was beautiful, Shiro had thought. This man who had stuck beside him through the worst days of his life, as his medication started working on his muscles.

It was Adam, in fact, who designed the bracelets on Shiro’s wrists. They were simple. A timer went off when it was time for his medicine, Shiro pressed a button, and the medication was delivered into his bloodstream via a small needle into his wrist.

Adam had said it was because he was tired of Shiro not taking his medication on time, and Shiro was sure that was true. But it still filled him with the wild kind of affection you only feel when you’re in love with someone, because Adam was not an engineer - he was a pilot like Shiro.

But in that moment, as Adam turned around in the early morning sunlight to bid Shiro good morning, the phrase slipped past Shiro’s lips before he could stop it.

“Marry me.” He said simply, smiling at the man in front of him.

Adam had gaped for a moment, his tan cheeks flushing dark red, “Takashi, are you serious?” He asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Shiro had laughed, sitting up and grabbing a velvet box out of his night stand. “Not the way I was planning this, but, yeah. I’m serious.” He stood, moving to stand in front of Adam, smiling brighter than he had in years.

Adam lunged at him, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck and kissing him firmly. “Yes.” He whispered against Shiro’s mouth, and then smiled so wide it broke their kiss.

Shiro laughed, giddy with the feeling of being so in love the rest of the world was obsolete.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, all of Shiro’s thoughts focused on the simple gold band wrapped around his fiance’s finger.

The news of their engagement spread like wildfire through the Garrison, teachers and students alike approaching him to say congratulations. It remained to be one of the happiest days in Shiro’s life.

 

His first mission to space was a short one, when he was just barely 20, 6 months after his proposal to Adam. It was a simple orbit around Earth and then back, he wasn’t even gone for a full week.

Adam welcomed him home with a kiss, and showed him the thousands of news reports on him, all reading: _Takashi Shirogane bec0mes the youngest pilot in history to orbit the earth._

His mom had called him that night, crying proud tears. _“Your father would be so proud of you, Shiro. He always knew you would make it.”_

Shiro had cried, too, when he hung up the phone, and Adam kissed his forehead. “I am more and more proud of you everyday that I am alive. In spite of all of the things this world has thrown at you, you have never given up. You just push forward.” He murmured, which just made Shiro cry a little harder, because his dream had finally come true and he was surrounded by people who had never given up on him.

 

Shiro met Keith Kogane four months after his orbit around Earth while doing a recruitment tour for the Garrison.

Something about the quiet young boy had caught his eye, had reminded him of himself. Keith was all fire and spite, would do anything to prove anyone wrong. He bested each of his classmates in the simple simulator, rising to every jab and showing them who was best.

Then he stole Shiro’s car, and _dang._ This kid was maybe 13 and he had more guts than half the people Shiro worked with at the Garrison.

He handed him his card at the police station (after convincing the officers that _no, he did not want to press charges despite the child’s previous criminal record.)_

“I don’t get it. I steal your car and then you help me out?” Keith had asked, lifting an eyebrow into his unruly black hair.

“Just meet me there, kiddo. I think you’ll like it.”

Shiro had pulled a lot of strings, called in several favors, but he got Keith in. The look joy on the kid’s face had made it worth it, and his scores in the simulators had any doubtful teachers eating their words.

“Takashi, I do not get it.” Adam said one night not long after, cuddled into Shiro’s chest, “How in the world do you manage to bring out the absolute best in every single person you’re around?”

“I just choose to believe in people.” Shiro had whispered back, “If no one had believed in me, I would never have made it this far.”

Adam had cuddled in a little closer, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s chest, and fell asleep. Shiro kissed his head and followed suit, dreaming of a future in which he married Adam and watched Keith rise to take his place as the mentor of wayward souls.

 

Keith’s fight with the Griffin boy had not been a surprise to Shiro. He remembered the two of them bickering in middle school, Griffin pushing Keith closer and closer to the edge with low jabs and sneering facial expressions.

And, well, Keith’s parents were a sensitive subject. Griffin should have kept his mouth shut.

But fighting was strictly against policy, and Shiro had to fight tooth and nail to ensure that Keith was not kicked out of the Garrison. He won, in the end, but Iverson and the other commanders had not been happy about it.

“You should just take me back to the home.” Keith grumbled, trying hard to look angry and deliberately not meeting Shiro’s eyes. “I don’t belong here.”

I broke Shiro’s heart, and he thought back to how he responded to Adam, on how he _‘brought out the best in people’,_ Keith was a kid. A kid who had never been believed in or shown affection - not since whatever happened with his father.

“Keith, I will never give up on you.” He said, bending down to meet Keith’s eyes, “But you can’t give up on yourself.”

Keith had looked so wonderstruck, so dumbfounded. His eyes widened, glazing over before he turned away from Shiro again, but there was no need for him to say thank you. Small steps, Shiro thought.

That night, Shiro took Keith riding on some borrowed hover bikes. It wasn’t strictly legal, and definitely against the Garrison’s policy, but Keith needed an outlet. Needed the fresh air, and the wonder in his eyes at the possibility of getting as good at Shiro at riding made Shiro’s heart swell. So, it was worth it.

It was that night that Shiro learned the truth about Keith’s parents. He never met his mother, and his father had died in a fire.

“Everyone told him not to go back into the building, but you couldn’t tell him anything.” Keith’s eyes were filled with a sad kind of pride.

“Sounds like someone I know.” Shiro said, ruffling Keith’s hair.

Shiro didn’t have biological siblings, but in that moment, with Keith finally opening up to him, he decided he had a little brother after all.

The timer went off on his bracelet, and Keith raised an eyebrow, asking if everything was alright. Shiro brushed him off, assuring him everything was fine, and smirked. “Race ya back.” Keith’s responding grin was not something Shiro would ever forget.

 

Somewhere along the line, Keith had sat down next to Shiro outside. It was a sunday, and Shiro had just been watching the sun sink in the sky.

“Shiro,” He had said tentatively, “Is it really okay to love other boys? Do people really not think it’s weird?”

Shiro had nudged Keith’s arm, smiling softly. “Loving whoever you want is part of accepting who you are. And I accepted who I was a long time ago. Loving Adam is as easy as breathing.”

Keith had sighed, relief etched into his face, and laid his head on Shiro’s shoulder. “I think I like boys.” He said.

“Me too.” Shiro laughed, and Keith elbowed his side.

 

Shiro met Sam Holt when he was 22, and it was not a good time in his life. He and Adam had already postponed their wedding because Shiro’s medication had not been working they way it should have, and his muscles were not in the best shape.

Keith was furious at him for lying about being sick, and Shiro couldn’t blame him. The kid had been through more trauma in his short life than anyone should ever have to, only to find out the man he saw as a brother was lying to him, too? That would be enough to set anyone on edge.

But Sam Holt wanted him to join him on a mission to _Kerberos._ How could Shiro say no to that?

Sam defended him against Admiral Sanda, told her he would have no other pilot. Shiro was the best, he had said. No one else would do.

Adam had not taken it well.

“You know how much this means to me, Adam! This is my dream!”

“Takashi, how much do I mean to you?” Adam demanded, his eyes wide.

Shiro’s heart broke at the fear in them, but, “I can’t give up my dream.”

“Then go, but don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” Adam stalked off and Shiro sat down heavily on the sofa in their lounge. He heaved a sigh, willing himself not to break down.

He retreated outside to work on his bike. It was a weekend - no responsibilities on Saturdays.

“Are you going to go?” Shiro looked up to see Keith staring at him. In two years, Keith had grown a lot. He was taller, and at the top of his class, but Shiro still saw the same kid he had seen in that classroom.

“Adam doesn’t want me to.” Shiro said, turning back to his bike.

“But?”

“But space is my dream.” Shiro replied, again looking at Keith.

Keith nodded but didn’t reply, just turned around and walked away. Shiro sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair, and continued to work on the bike until the sun went down.

When he returned to his and Adam’s shared quarters, he found the engagement ring he had given Adam lying on their coffee table, a sticky not beside it reading _I’m sorry._

A sob ripped out of Shiro’s throat before he could stop it, and he collapsed on the sofa. No point in not going now. He had messed up the last reasons he had to stay, and even if the mission was horrible, it would give him time to sort through the messes he had made.

 

Keith saw Shiro off on the launch day, and Shiro hugged his little brother tight.

He fought down the heartbreak in his chest because Adam had not shown up, and Shiro hadn’t seen him for longer than 30 seconds since he found Adam’s ring in their quarters.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kiddo.” Shiro smiled down at Keith, ruffling his hair one last time before walking towards the ship.

“Be careful, Shiro.” Keith called, and Shiro heard the unspoken _I’ve lost too many people to lose you, too._

Shiro turned and grinned one last time, and then he was gone.

 

Four months later, Keith Kogane and Adam Wright gaped at TV’s on opposite ends of the Garrison.

Adam had choked out a sob, bolting toward his rooms before allowing himself to break down, regret flooding him so thoroughly that he felt he might drown.

Keith flung a fist at the TV, his chest heaving, and bolted. He had lost another family member. Why did this always happen to him? Why was he cursed to lose all the people he held dear?

Blood dripped from Keith’s knuckles, and tears rolled unceasingly down Adam’s face as they both mourned a man who had changed their lives for the better.

 

The flight to Kerberos was a blur. Shiro focused flying the ship, on communicating with Sam and Matt, enjoying his journey despite the mess that was awaiting him upon his return to Earth.

But, as it turned out, Shiro would did not have long to worry about his failed relationships because the Galra empire had another plan for him.

He drifted in and out of consciousness after the abduction, and barely remembered pleaded with their alien captors. His head pounded from excess of information it was trying to process, and it was easier to sink into sleep than to try and comprehend the events unfolding around him.

When Shiro finally did regain consciousness, when things started to make just a microscopic amount of sense again, he focused his energy on the people around him.

Sam and Matt were there, their backs pressed into the wall of the cell, clinging to each other, faces pale with fear and exhaustion.

But there were also aliens in cell. Aliens whose anatomy Shiro couldn’t quite make sense of, with anywhere from two to eight arms, humanoid bodies or more animalistic.  Their body language read as _scared,_ though, and Shiro couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t allow these living creatures to be so terrified.

“We’ll be alright.” He said, carefully positioning himself against the wall of the cell. Neither his companions nor the aliens looked convinced, but Shiro tried. He wanted to assuage their fears even if he was terrified himself, even if he had no idea what was going on or what was going to happen.

Shiro began to lose hope when his captors ripped Sam away from Matt’s grasp, ignoring Matt’s screams of protest in favor or rounding up more of the aliens in the cell, all of the ones who looked to be old or very young, leaving only the able bodied adults.

Matt sobbed on his shoulder the minute the cell door closed again, and Shiro let him. It was unlikely, he thought, that they would ever see Sam Holt again.

_Adam was right, I should have stayed home._

 

Later, maybe a few days or a week, the guards came back (the aliens called their captors the _Galra)_ , and ordered them to line up. Shiro thought it would surely be the end, they were being taken for execution, but that was not the case.

They were lined up in an alcove that opened into an arena, similar to the colosseums of ancient Greece or Rome. The Galra guards smirked, informing them that, _“Today you will fight for your lives against the Champion, only the tough shall prevail.”_

From inside arena came a roar that chilled Shiro to the bone. His brain screamed for him to _run,_ but there was nowhere to go.

And then he noticed Matt standing at the front of the line, visibly shaking with fear, and the guards walking towards him, and he made a decision that would change his life forever.  

“No! This is my fight!” He snarled, pulling out of the line and tackling Matt. He heard a _snap,_ and Matt cried out, cradling his wrist as best he could. Shiro tried to apologize with his eyes, and he hoped that Matt would understand, hoped that he had just saved his friend and not doomed him.

The Galra Champion was a massive, purple monster. It was vastly more terrifying than anything horror movies on Earth had ever thought up, although that could have been because it was very real and right in front of him.

Shiro didn’t remember the fight, not really. It existed in his mind as flashes of horror and pain, and determination and the calling on survival skills that can only be honed in the face of combat.

But, he did remember winning the fight. Against all odds be downed the monster, an evil kind of satisfaction flooding him when the monster fell dead, a satisfaction that turned quickly to horror as the crowd exploded into cheers.

_Champion! Champion! A new champion!_

Shiro wanted to throw up.

The months after passed in a haze of pain, the only thought Shiro had during that time was _survive._ He fought monsters that would appear in his nightmares only to vanish when he awoke, remembered only as horror his brain refused to process while awake.

The Galra did something about his muscles. He didn’t know what. Only knew it was painful, an injection of purple lightning that set his body on fire and ripped away his consciousness.

He remembered a pool of his own blood and the feeling of immense loss, but not the actual pain of losing his arm. He didn't remember the druids replacing it.

He remembered the tearing sensation across his face from a claw he couldn’t dodge, the blood running into his mouth and down his neck.

 

And then he was crash landing on Earth.

Later, he remembered Ulaz and his sacrifice to get Shiro out of Galra hands.

But his first words on Earth were a plea to the Garrison officials to _prepare themselves._ The Galra would destroy his home.

Then there was Keith, reckless, stupid kid, punching the lights out of them and then arguing with a hispanic kid Shiro didn’t recognize as he slipped unconscious again.

When he woke up for good, in the shack Keith’s father had lived in, he was so relieved he thought he might have been dead. Earth was prettier than he rememberd, so calm and bright. No harsh purple light to haunt the shadows.

The boy who helped Keith rescue him was Lance, who shook his hand despite the slight hesitation. Pidge and Hunk were the other two, buddly and bright in a way that Shiro had not seen in what Keith told him was a year.

And then they said that the Galra were coming and Keith lead them to the Blue Lion and Shiro was back in space, and he had missed another chance to ask for Adam forgive him (he realized this after he told Lance to go through the wormhole, but there wouldn’t be an Adam to apologize to if the Galra got to Earth.).

 

The Alteans were much better than the Galra. Calmer, more welcoming (even if the princess did insult Lance’s ears).

Now Shiro had another job to do. Pilot the Black Lion, Allura had said. Be leader who people will follow without question. Looking at the other ‘paladins’ around him, Shiro realized they were just kids. Keith was 16, now. Hunk and Lance were likely the same age, and Pidge had to younger. He could lead them. That was the only way he could protect them.

Allura sent him to find the Green Lion with Pidge, and Shiro spent the entire trip in awe of the beauty of the universe. Of the colors he had almost forgot existed and fresh air.

He also tried to figure out why he knew Pidge’s face despite never having met him. There was something achingly familiar about him.

Later, when they infiltrated a Galra ship to find Keith’s lion, Shiro had to fight down the overwhelming fear that crept into his heart at the sight of the purple walls, at the thought of letting Keith, his friend, his _brother,_ go through the ship alone.

But Pidge needed his help looking for the rest of the Kerberos crew and Shiro knew it was the right thing to do.

His cybernetic arm was a weapon, apparently. It burned through the Galra sentries that attacked he and Pidge, and he caught painful flashes of his time in Galra captivity as soon as the sentries were down.

When the Black Lion opened accepted Shiro as his paladin, Shiro felt whole for the first time since he found Adam’s ring abandoned in their home.

 

He lead Voltron well, he decided. Fighting off the voices in his head got hard, but he could handle it. The team seemed to understand, didn’t question him about it, though Keith looked concerned when he thought no one could see him.

He also discovered that he knew Pidge because he was actually Katie Holt, the genius sister and daughter Matt and Sam had gone on and on about during the flight to Kerberos. She was as smart as both of them had been, if not smarter, and, well, maybe Shiro needed a little sister, too.

He gained absolute control over the Black Lion. He chose _Shiro._

 _Zarkon was the past,_ the lion rumbled _, you are now._

When the witch aboard the Galra ship ripped into his side, Shiro truly believed his time had run out. Her face came back to him in flashes of horror as he ran from the dog-lizard-monsters on the planet he and Keith crashed on. She had experimented on him, given his his arm.

When he asked Keith to lead Voltron, the kid looked horrified, but Shiro didn’t take it back. He knew Keith would a good leader, maybe better than Shiro was.

 

Watching himself leave Keith in Blade of Marmora base made Shiro want to rip the place to pieces. How dare they mess with a child’s mind? How dare they open a wound that Shiro knew had never really healed?

But, in the end, Keith left the base at his side, Kolivan standing silently in the Red Lion’s cockpit, the knowledge that Keith had Galra blood floating in the air around them.

He wouldn’t look Shiro in the eye, and it made Shiro hate his Galra captors even more because now Keith expected his brother to run away from him, too.

Later, when the Blade members had left and Allura’s judgemental eyes were not flashing with suspicion, Keith sat down beside him in front of the holographic screen on the bridge of the Castle.

For a while, they were silent. Shiro watched the stars on the holoscreen drift away as the Castle moved through space.

“I’m sorry.” Keith whispered after a while. “I promise that I didn’t know, Shiro. I swear.”

He sounded dangerously close to tears, and Shiro’s heart sank. “You can’t change who you are, Keith.” Keith finally looked him in the eye, fear written into his expression so plainly it made Shiro’s heart ache. “You were still Galra when we met. You were Galra when I decided I had a little brother. You’ve always been Galra, just like you’ll always be that punk kid I practically adopted four years ago.”

Keith had sobbed, leaning heavily on Shiro’s shoulder, all the pain of being alone and rejected his entire life finally catching up to him.

The team took Keith’s news very well. Lance joked, “No wonder you don’t act human,” but he was smiling and Keith laughed a bit, so Shiro let it go. Pidge and Hunk didn’t react at all beyond assuring him that they didn’t care.

 

The battle with Zarkon ended with Shiro floating through a realm of purple emptiness. He recognized it from his fight for control over the Black Lion and somewhere in his mind he registered the he was dead.

It was lonely, the Astral Plane. Silent in way nothing should ever be. Endless in a way the human mind can’t comprehend.

He caught a glimpse of Lance, calling out to him, his voice a sound he hadn’t heard in what felt like an eternity, but Lance didn’t respond beyond turning to look at him.

Then the team was gone again and Shiro was alone in and endless abyss of nothing once more.

 

After forever, Keith showed up. Distraught, screaming about Shiro trying to kill him, killing the team and _oh no._

“I died, Keith.” He said, “Whatever is out there, it is not me.”

Keith looked horrified, but he had to get back to reality, and Shiro missed him the moment his form faded away, but at least he knew Keith was alive. That made the silence a bit more bearable. Keith was strong. He would save himself and the team. They would be alright.

 

And then he was alive again, a crying Keith clinging to his chest and the rest of his team gazing at him with relief that was tangible.

He met Keith’s mother (again, apparently. The clone’s memories were fuzzy flickers of something uncomfortable and inhuman.)

Lance apologized to him. “You tried to reach out, and I-” His lip had been wavering, and Shiro hugged him because he knew Lance would react that way. He carried much more pain than he cared to let on, and he didn’t deserve that.

“It’s alright.” He said, “You held the team together while my evil clone tried to destroy it. I’m proud of you.”

That had made Lance cry harder, and Shiro clung a little tighter to younger boy.

 

His nightmares were haunted by new demons. The empty abyss of the Astral Plane. Keith’s horrified, betrayed eyes. Screaming at his team. Ignoring pleas about his reckless plans.

One truly awful one in which his clone succeeded in ripping the team to pieces in every sense of the phrase.

 

Getting back to Earth and being able to stay felt like a fever dream, and Shiro couldn’t help but feel as though he didn’t deserve it.

But he knew he didn’t deserve the way that Adam had leapt at him, anger and fear and relief flashing across his face. He didn’t deserve the be able to hold him again, to cry into his chest about all the horrible things that the world had thrown at him over the past few years.

But Shiro counted himself a selfish man because when Adam kissed him, his lips salty from the tears rolling down his cheeks, he kissed back.

 

Later, much later, when the war was put to rest and the Atas collected dust in a hangar at the Garrison, Shiro still had nightmares.

He woke up one night, screaming and pleading with a monster that wasn’t there. Adam had grabbed his arm, trying to calm him down, and Shiro had flipped. He pinned Adam down, adrenaline pumping through his veins, before realizing who was in front of him.

Then he pulled back, scrambling off the bed and against the wall. Guilt overtook any other emotion he had been previously feeling, but Adam didn’t even look phased.

“Takashi,” He whispered, “It was only a nightmare. You’re safe. The war is over. We’re in our home, Keith and Lance live next door. We’re safe, you’re safe.”

“Why do you do this?” Shiro asked, hating himself for scaring Adam, for almost hurting him, for so many things he couldn’t control.

“Because I’ve loved you since I was 15.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t care.”

Adam had been slowly walking toward him as they spoke, and Shiro flinched when he put his hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t care what the Galra made you do, I don’t care about what you did to survive out there. I care about his.” Adam laid his hand on Shiro’s chest, “I care about the man who came out of that on top. The man who led the charge against an empire that decimated millions of lives and _won._ I love the man who, despite being given thousands of chances to quit, to give up and die or become the monster he has every right to be, continues to do the right thing. Continues to lead people and be kind and cook breakfast for me in the morning even though he really cannot cook.”

Shiro laughed, but it came out more like a sob, and sank against Adam’s chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He repeated over and over, his heart mending ever so slightly in the light Adam shined on it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might ship Adashi more than I do Klance, and if you've read my other fics that's a whole heck of a lot. 
> 
> Also, I did research on muscular dystrophy for this, but if there is anything I got wrong, let me know and I'll fix it. 
> 
> I love you for reading this and I hope you have a good day.


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